


Re:remember

by Alien_Ariel



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Slow Burn, wasteland escapades
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-09 05:12:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15260148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alien_Ariel/pseuds/Alien_Ariel
Summary: “Here’s a quick ne-ne-neeeews flash!” Three Dog continued, and Gob gave the radio his full attention, “God knows why, but the kid from 101 is scouring the Capital Wasteland for a unique brand of Nuka-Cola. It’s called Quantum, glows bright blueish purple. I’ve also heard it tastes like radscorpion shit and turns your piss blue. Or was it the other way around?”Gob almost felt a little chuckle in his chest at that. Almost.“Well while we all know not to bother with that shit, we gotta give our Vaultie Heroine the benefit of the doubt. So all you storeowners, beware: Miss One Oh One may be headed your way. Do Ol’ Three Dog a favor and throw her a bone.”The Wanderer had never stepped foot in Megaton. Somehow her exploits had never led her here, which was especially amazing considering the town’s proximity to her home vault. But still, One Oh One had never visited his town.Didn’t stop Gob from hoping, though. Now more than ever.--------------------------------------------------If something as stupid as a Nuka-Cola was what finally brought her to his bar, he could live with that.





	1. Affable, Fun, Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Got another new series here. Been inspired to write this one for a little while, so here it is. Gob was my original ghoul love; Hancock may be the most important ghoul in my life, but Gob will always hold the spot of the first. And this tag is so barren that I figured it could do with a little more love.
> 
> This is a shorter series, but in chapters only. This one chapter is already longer than some of my other (older) completed works. I do hope you enjoy! I don't have an editor, so I'm correcting syntax/omissions as I go. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated! Thanks! <3

**Re:remember**

_Chapter_ _1- Affable, Fun, Dangerous_

 _“_ _Butcher Pete_ _” and “Mighty, Mighty Man” by Roy Brown_

 

Gob was in a strange state of being at the moment.

Well, everything and every _one_ in the Capital Wasteland was a bit upside-down right now; it wasn’t just Gob. Ever since the Lone Wanderer had restored pure drinking water to the ruins of DC, things were changing and shaking up all over. Shit, Gob almost believed she could revive the landscape of the wastes themselves if she set herself to it: converting the parched, cracked earth back into its lush, prewar visage just with a look.

Three Dog certainly did his part to talk Miss One Oh One up until she was nothing short of a monolithic hero, someone who had no counter and no parallel. She was singular and unstoppable: but endlessly kind and pure of heart. Gob had nothing else to base his perception of her on, aside from reports of her on Galaxy News Radio.

And he carried more than just a torch for her in his heart.

But there things once again circled back around to Gob’s current situation, and his attentions were diverted from the glass he was endlessly trying to clean up to the silent radio sitting on the bar he was stood behind.

Moriarty’d made him keep it off all day: a punishment for returning to the saloon five minutes late that morning with their rations of aqua pura for the week, which he’d been sent to collect from Craterside Supply—Moira was keeping it safe for distribution once the Brotherhood’s caravans got the barrels past the city gate and basically dumped it off. If this lapse hadn’t also made the bar five minutes late to open, Gob suspected he’d have earned himself a much more brutal, much more prolonged, kind of abuse. So at least he had that going for him at the moment. He could always hope Moriarty drank himself so stupid and forgetful by the end of the day that the transgression could go without further beatings.

Gob still wasn’t quite recovered from the thrashing he’d received on Monday for dropping a glass when Three Dog launched into a sorrowful news break about the Wanderer. He feared it had finally been her time, but it just turns out she’d finally busted her most favorite weapon and had rushed over to lament its loss with the disc jockey.

He’d been reminded of the incident every day since at noon, with a sarcastic eulogy from Three Dog and moment of silence before launching back into the usual tunes.

Rest in peace, Snicker-Snack.

Trying to focus back on his chores was near impossible when Gob got the itch to turn the radio back on. The din of silence in Moriarty’s Saloon was almost as oppressive as the man himself, and it made Gob want to scratch at his peeling skin.

Want to—but he’d never actually do it while on the job, lest he disgust a customer and never hear the end of it. And that almost made it worse: feeling the urge and knowing he had to suppress it. And then the worst of all: the depression that came from having to deny yourself such a common reaction just because of what you were.

If he kept up like this, it was going to ruin his ability to concentrate for the rest of the night. So, with a quick glance to check that Moriarty was outside sucking down his thirteenth cigarette of the evening, Gob risked to tune the radio to GNR. Maybe the Wanderer would be able to unknowingly lift his spirits once more.

Get him through just another night.

“ _Because one dog ain’t enough and two is too low, it’s me: Three Dog! How you kids handling Post-Apocalyptia today?_ ” Gob had managed to catch it right as the aforementioned host was transitioning between songs.

Gob held out hope for another news flash, maybe another tale of the hero of the wastes saving another slave from the clutches of a cruel master and stomping his monstrous head into the dust for extra panache. Or maybe liberating another of the museums from the super mutant hordes stalking downtown! Those were some of his favorites, because it made him worry just a little less about his family and friends in Underworld.

Didn’t matter that the muties left the ghouls alone for now. Someday Underworld might have something they’d want, and then it would be all over.

“ _Here’s a quick ne-ne-neeeews flash!”_ Three Dog continued, and Gob gave the radio his full attention, “ _God knows why, but the kid from 101 is scouring the Capital Wasteland for a unique brand of Nuka-Cola. It’s called Quantum, glows bright blueish purple, and was made in limited quantities before the war. I’ve_ also heard _it tastes like radscorpion shit and turns your piss blue. Or was it the other way around?”_

Gob almost felt a little chuckle in his chest at that. Almost.

 _“Well while_ we all _know not to bother with that shit, we gotta give our Vaultie Heroine the benefit of the doubt. So all you storeowners, beware: Miss One Oh One may be headed your way. Do Ol’ Three Dog a favor and throw her a bone,_ ” Three Dog wrapped up his bit and then proceeded to laugh at his own bad pun.

“ _Anyway, next up is Roy Brown tellin’ us all about that_ Mighty, Mighty Man,” he concluded. The jazzy score livened up the damp, humid interior of the bar considerably, but the heat wasn’t what got Gob dabbing his forehead with the bandana he kept in his back pocket.

The Wanderer was good friends with Three Dog, as if his humorous tributes to her various depleted weapons wasn’t enough to prove that, and he’d often report on what she was currently up to in order to bring light to where she might be headed next. People liked to meet her and thank her for her part in cleaning the tidal basin’s waters for them all. And sometimes Three Dog would help steer her towards a new goal by mentioning something interesting shaking up the wastes.

Basically, the long and short of it was that the thing the Wanderer was looking for was rare and she’d have to go all over to get the quantities the broadcast had alluded to.

So.

Did Gob dare to hope she’d finally stop in his bar?

_Moriarty’s bar. Whatever._

The Wanderer had never stepped foot in Megaton. Somehow her exploits had never led her here, which was especially amazing considering the town’s proximity to her home vault. The town was now even playing host to a few vault residents curiously sticking their heads out of the 200-year-old hole they’d burrowed into.

But still, One Oh One had never visited his town. Didn’t stop him from hoping.

_Now more than ever._

Shit, did they even have any of that accursed Quantum? Gob was pretty sure they didn’t, but he started poking around in the stores just to be completely sure: bar completely forgotten. Nova would alert him if someone was absolutely demanding service.

So focused on his new task, his heart sinking incrementally the more he shoved aside and realigned in his search, that Gob didn’t hear the door swing open and shut almost politely closed again. He was submerged in the shelves at this point, pushing back as far as he could just to verify even though he knew it wasn’t any good—he’d have been able to see the stupid glow at a glance.

“Don’t suppose you found a long-forgotten bottle of Nuka-Cola Quantum back there, did ya?” Gob heard a surprisingly high-pitched, clear voice ask as he retreated from the depths of the stores. When he looked over to see if they’d been speaking to him, Gob silently thanked his good sense to retract his head first because he’d have surely banged it against the metal shelf once he recognized the new face in the bar.

It was her.

“Sorry?” he said gruffly, dumbfounded. Didn’t matter that he’d never seen the Wanderer before: she was unmistakable. Every part of her appearance, her voice, the way she carried herself—take your pick.

All of her gave away her identity.

“Oh damn, that’s what I thought,” she said, slumping to knock her forehead against the bar top, “You’re the third one I’ve tried and it’s been the same every time.” She must have mistaken his shocked utterance, so accustomed to apologizing even if it wasn’t called for or wasn’t his fault, as a negative.

“Oh! Sorry. I meant I hadn’t heard you right,” Gob course-corrected, then, “Uh but, yeah, we also don’t have any Quantum. Sorry.”

The Wanderer lifted her head back up, propping her chin in her hand. There was a coy little smile on her face that made Gob instantly sweat, “You’re an apologetic one, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” Gob said again before he could stop himself, feeling absolutely mortified, but One Oh One just giggled genially.

“Well I’m sorry for making you so nervous that you keep doing it!” she replied with a more genuine smile, “Sometimes my appearance does that to people.” She hefted up a wooden baseball bat from its spot leaning against the bar. It components would probably be half metal though, from all the nails and saw blades she’d stuck in the poor thing.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Gob said, mostly unaffected by the weapon. From what Three Dog said of her previous combat companions, this looked almost tame. The Wanderer laughed again.

“You’re either very funny or very sweet. Either way I like you,” she said, carefully lowering the bat back to the ground and thankfully missing Gob’s voice catch in his throat.

“I just know better than to insult a pretty lady,” Gob somehow had the courage to say, surprising himself so completely that he had to pick up a glass to try to clean so he didn’t have to look at her face. She was quiet a moment before giggling again and tucking a length of her purple-red hair behind her ear.

“Oh go on,” she teased, the pitch of her voice dropping ever so slightly. Gob sure didn’t have anything to say to that and scrubbed more furiously at the glass. Still, he couldn’t help but look up at the Wanderer and was amazed to see a slight blush dusting her face despite her tone sounding in-control.

“Can I get you anything, smoothskin?” Gob asked, fighting to keep his tone cool, “Besides Quantum, that is.”

“ _Well_. And here I was thinking if I just asked a little nicer you might pull one out of thin air,” she joked, back to her normal voice, “I suppose I’ll have some whiskey, please.”

“ _Please_? Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before. I’ll give you the good-manners discount, then,” Gob quirked a small smile—barely noticeable—then remembered: “But don’t go telling Moriarty about that. He’d take the difference out of me.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not in the business of ratting on the common man. Your savings need not fear me,” she said with a wink, sliding over a handful of caps, “Just keep the rest as a tip for being a good sport and putting up with me.”

A tip? What’s a tip?

Gob wasn’t _stupid_ , he knew what a tip _was_. He just didn’t know if he was allowed to take it. What if Moriarty found out? And why would she give him one?

Well, it would probably look like awful manners not to accept it, so Gob slipped the extra into his pocket with a timid “thank you.”

The Wanderer sipped her drink and looked like she was savoring it—Gob couldn’t really relate, he didn’t like whiskey at all—and wanted to engage her further, but was pulled away by Jericho demanding a second bottle of vodka.

Great. He was gonna be trouble tonight, Gob could tell. It just remained to be seen if he’d be the one on the receiving end of the drunken vitriol, or if Nova was.

Gob hoped it would be him.

“Sorry about that,” Gob said softly as he returned to his usual spot at the bar. The Wanderer quirked an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“Apologizing again.”

“Ah. Right.”

There was a tick of awkward silence. Well, Gob had felt it was awkward, but, with the Wanderer once again laughing lightly, he supposed that he was just being overly critical.

“You’re alright. What’s your name?” she asked him and he completely froze up, his name traitorously leaking out of his brain as he made contact with her eyes again: so icy blue that they almost resembled his ghoulified irises. “If it’s ok to ask?”

_Damn it, just say your name, you moron._

“Gob,” he finally remembered, and she smiled.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Gob,” she replied, “My name’s Delilah, but I’d rather ‘Del,’ if you please.”

Gob was embarrassed to realize that he hadn’t even considered the Wanderer _had_ a name. For so long he’d heard her stories—the stories of Miss One Oh One: The Lone Wanderer from the Vault—that he’d completely overlooked the fact that there was a person in those stories.

“But… you might know me as—”

“The Lone Wanderer, yeah,” Gob affirmed when she looked a little uncomfortable introducing herself as such, “It’s amazing getting to meet you. You’re a real hero, kid.”

The Wanderer, Del, flushed again, more bashfully this time and tapped the rim of her glass with a finger, “Well I don’t know about that, but thank you.”

“Never would have thought the person who’d given unirradiated water back to the Wasteland would be so modest,” Gob commented with another small smile as Del ducked her head and took another sip of her whiskey.

“I’ll never get used to the praise, honestly. Not always sure I deserve it,” she admitted in a hushed voice, which made Gob’s heart squeeze a little. Was she always so candid with barkeepers, or did she feel like she could trust him?

“Kid, I don’t think there’s anyone in these wastes more deserving of what you’re getting than you,” Gob said sincerely, his breath catching again at the look she returned: so thankful and genuine.

“You’re sweet, I really appreciate it,” she said in the same quiet voice, making the exchange feel that much more intimate. Gob’s heart hammered in his chest and he had no idea what to say to that, had no idea how to prove to her that she was a hero. That she, through the recounting of her exploits and good deeds, had been his own personal savior as well.

Nothing he could think of sounded inspiring enough, deserving enough, so he just said the first thing his brain could think of—

“Sorry.”

Del broke the moment with hysterical peels of laughter, having to set her glass back on the bar so it wouldn’t spill.

“Shit. Sorry, I—fuck not sorry. I meant—”

“Gob, it’s ok. I know what you meant,” Del rescued him from his floundering, wiping a tear from her eye and trying to take deep breaths to calm herself. “Wow, I haven’t laughed like that in _forever_ ,” she said passionately, laying a hand on his wrist when her chuckles started up again.

It was like lightning striking him. Gob was hit with the sudden urge to both remain completely still and hop around from the raw energy coursing through him. She was _touching_ him! Touching _him!_ Him! Gob!

_Fuck what now._

The last drop of ecstasy drained from him as his name was roared from the front of the bar. Del removed her hand, mood totally sobered, to see who had yelled; most of the other patrons didn’t bother. Only the truly vicious, like Jericho, would watch the coming beating.

“Why do I see tables full of customers but empty of liquor?” Moriarty seethed in his own special way: both sneering and liquidy to show he was in control, but with a savage undercurrent of venom.

“Sorry, Mr. Moriarty sir,” Gob muttered, leaving the bar for the nearest table—Billy Creel—to take orders. He didn’t quite get there, however, as Moriarty’s boot to the back of her knee sent him careening to the floor. Gob was just thankful he hadn’t split his chin open on the bar top.

There was a huge scuffling, which Gob couldn’t make out from his spot on the floor where he was subconsciously wrapping himself up to be as small and protected as possible. Either Moriarty was going for some kind of weapon to bludgeon him with further, or—and Gob never dared to hope for this—someone was actually coming to his aid.

It was never the latter.

But tonight was different. Del was here. He’d almost forgotten, with his body flooding with adrenaline to numb the pain in his joints and chest.

Almost.

“What do you think you’re doing?” her voice had an edge Gob hadn’t yet heard. It was still clear and bell-like, but darkening like clouds building up on the horizon threatening rain. Even if this was Moriarty’s first time meeting Del he could feel the warning there, and Gob was amazed to watch him hesitate before doubling down.

“I’m doing what I like with my property, that’s what, girlie,” he answered with a sick smile. Del visibly balked at the word “property,” and it seemed like she was reevaluating things. Gob couldn’t blame her for not knowing he’s basically a slave; she probably assumed she’d all but done away with it in the Wasteland.

“How much for a room?” she asked, seemingly changing her methods. Moriarty didn’t pay her any mind and gave the amount. “What if I want company?” she continued, and Gob felt his heart squeeze again. This time it was uncomfortable.

“Sorry dear, but Nova’s taken tonight,” Moriarty said, snapping his fingers and sending the girl over to Jericho’s table. Nova sat down on his knee, face full of hatred once Moriarty turned his back. He only ever comped people a night with Nova to humiliate someone, whether that be Gob, Nova herself, or, in this case, a customer overstepping her bounds.

“I didn’t ask for her. I’d like him,” she said, tone even steelier as she picked up on the game. She didn’t break eye contact with Moriarty but pointed down to Gob, still curled on the floor and now wishing he could sink into it.

Please, just let him melt and slip through the floorboards. Let him be crushed under foot and blow away in the wind.

Please don’t make her ruin herself for him.

“That’s not what he’s here for, lass,” Moriarty said, so taken aback he reverted to straight facts. Then his greed kicked in, “Not unless you’re willing to pay for the service.”

“If it gets him away for you, I’ll pay fucking whatever,” Del said, dropping pretense because she knew he’d already decided. There was some muttering and the clinking of _a lot_ of caps, and then Gob was being lifted up the arm with hands rough from hardship but still so alien in their inherent softness.

“I can get up,” Gob said dejectedly and hoisted himself up. Del didn’t release him though—stubbornly holding on until he was up the stairs and then sitting on his bed. Even then, she only let go to search through her backpack for something.

“I know stimpacks don’t do much for you, but I’ve got one here. And an irradiated blood pack, which would be better but probably overkill since you don’t have any skin tears,” Del talked to herself as Gob closed his eyes ashamedly and kept quiet.

“Here, why don’t you roll up your pants so I can check on your knees? I know ghoul joints are kind of bad, so I want to make sure,” she continued, her shuffling done and a sampling of medicinals on the floor beside her.

“You should go, smoothskin,” Gob mumbled, knowing he didn’t mean it—didn’t want it—but that it was the best thing for her. She had a reputation she needed to take care of, not some long-defeated ghoul, “I’ve had worse.”

Gob realized this was the wrong thing to say, because the fire that ignited in her eyes was terrifying, “How bad?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Gob tried to backpedal even though it was useless. If she’d bothered to get this far, she wasn’t going to let it go so easily.

“Gob. How bad?”

“Just shy of killing me sometimes. Afraid I was gonna lose an eye once. Couldn’t walk for a week once and he still kicked me down. It gets bad. But I’m sure you figured all that,” Gob relented, not able to deny the look in her eyes was startling him. It wasn’t that he feared she’d hurt him, but rather that he was shocked at the depth of her ability to care.

He really shouldn’t be surprised: she was the closest thing the Capital Wasteland ever had to an angel. It was her deal, her entire _thing,_ to care about the downtrodden and hopeless.

But still.

_No one cared for him._

“Hey hey, now. It’s ok—oh gosh, please don’t—” she choked slightly and Gob realized he might be crying, “I’m not trying to embarrass you, I’m so sorry. Should I go? Oh god, you said I should go—”

“Please,” Gob said, catching Del’s wrist as she scrambled to clean up her spread of medical supplies and stood, the fire in her eyes changing to mortification, thinking she’d upset him. How did he even begin to quiet those fears?

Gob didn’t know because he didn’t have any past experience to look back on.

But maybe that one word had been enough.

“Can I help you, Gob?” she asked, looking surprisingly meek and unsure despite hovering over him. Gob couldn’t find his voice again and, wondering when he’d get over that, simply nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite not ever having been on her radar before now, Gob found Del frequenting Megaton with a confusing regularity now. He wasn’t going to question his good luck, happy to have a friendly— _beautiful_ —face around to brighten his gray days and share in the rare sunny one. She even addressed him as her “ _friend_ Gob,” which made his heart soar. Not since Underworld had someone openly declared their familiarity, their _affection_ , for him.

Nova was friendly with him, sure, but it wasn’t the same. And it took Del coming into his life to realize how starved he’d been for friendship, for pleasant conversation, for touch.

Del had been busy around town for the next few weeks, doing all sorts of odds things here and there. And even the occasional _big_ thing too.

Disarming the bomb in the center of town and also, somehow, talking the Church of Atom out of being pissed at her was one thing that came to mind. That one had earned her the keys to the largest house in Megaton, which had sat empty for ages because no one had much need for all the room.

And then she’d also found a way to cure a bunch of personal problems for the townsfolk, most of which Gob didn’t learn about until after the fact, since no one was too keen on sharing that kind of information with him. But Gob _did_ know she’d been teaching Nova some things, if the magazines and textbooks she was carting between the bar and her house meant anything. Nova wouldn’t explicitly tell him what they were doing, which hurt him a little, but he dropped it when Nova implied it’d be better if he didn’t know.

When she did leave town, it was usually to run strange errands for Moira. Occasionally Del would come in to visit with Gob and recount her tales. She’d gotten particularly teary-eyed when she drank one too many glasses of whiskey and Nuka-Cola and explained how she’d killed a few mole rats; she was quick to defend Moira, stating that the formula for the repellant she was testing was just too strong and had overloaded their brains. Still, this was hard on Del and she’d had to spend the rest of the day hugging Nibbler, her pet mole rat.

Because of course she had a pet mole rat.

About the time Moira was distributing her _Wasteland Survival Guide_ , Del was also returning from a trip up into Arefu’s territory to save Lucy West’s brother from kidnapping. She’d also apparently managed to work out a beneficial trade route between Arefu and the gang of misguided outcasts that had taken the boy.

And then, just to prove that there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do, Del single-handedly fixed all of Megaton’s plumbing problems. Gob would have figured that to be beneath her, but nothing was too trivial for her if fixing it meant she was making things better for people. If the town rationed their aqua pura correctly, Walter was reckoning that in a few years they’d have enough stashed to introduce into the water system to have clean water on tap.

Eventually Del ran out of things to fix and Gob fully, fearfully, believed she’d be on her way to the next Wasteland settlement that needed her. But, if only to seemingly prove him wrong, she stuck around. She spent her time fiddling with her new house’s decorations or chatting with people in the bar. One time she’d been able to catch up with her best friend Amata, the new Overseer in Vault 101, when she’d come to town to negotiate establishing a trade route with the town.

Again, Gob was sure this was the final thing Del needed to do in Megaton. It made sense, her waiting for her friend to come up to the surface for a reunion, since she was barred from returning to the Vault now.

However, Gob was once again proven wrong.

He finally got his answer about why she stayed almost a month and a half since Del first came to Megaton. And, if he was honest, it was not even a consideration in his mind.

It was nearing closing and Gob would usually feel the strain in his bones, but tonight Del was here and it was enough for him to ignore his soreness. She’d been around basically every night since she’d met up with Amata, and Gob wondered if she was expecting someone else.

Maybe a guy.

He’d heard her mention someone named Butch with Amata, and the way she said his name made Gob, ashamedly, very jealous. So maybe she was waiting for this Butch guy to come up too. Well, despite how much he felt he’d hate to have to see that particular reunion, Gob was happy to have Del around. Everything felt lighter. He felt like he could handle his life.

And then Moriarty stumbled out from his office. Gob knew at first from the stink of him: a disgusting cocktail of only the most pungent liquors. But then there was a rough pull at his shoulder and Gob was almost sent spiraling to the floor. Del stood up from her bar stool in a second, like she’d been ready.

“Don’t,” she warned in the same steely tone Gob now knew to be an indication of her absolute hatred for whatever she addressed with it.

“Don’t what?” Moriarty taunted, but it lacked his usual coolness. He was more far gone than he’d been in a long time.

“Moriarty, leave him alone. I _will_ retaliate,” she continued, not moving a muscle but promising it with her eyes, “He's a person and he’s not yours to hit.”

“Well then I won’t hit him,” Moriarty said with a shrug. Next thing Gob knew, a massive aura of pain was blossoming over his back. Moriarty had forced him down with a swift chop of his leg, which was immediately followed by a rapid series of kicks to his abdomen.

In the background, Three Dog started up _Butcher Pete_ by Roy Brown, as if he psychically knew Del was about to do something crazy.

“Moriarty,” Del shouted, losing just a bit of her control in her voice but regaining his attention with the buzz of her plasma pistol, which she'd pulled free of the holster on her thigh. It thrummed and blipped like something straight out of Astoundingly Awesome Tales and immediately hushed the bar, “I _will_ do it. I _will_ retaliate.”

Maybe she was hoping the repetition would be enough to lull Moriarty into a trance and forget his bloodlust.

_He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'_

_He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'_

_He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'_

_He just hacks, wacks, choppin' that meat_

There was a flash of surprise over Moriarty’s face, but he quickly masked it, contorted it into a twisted grin. Then, his foot came crashing down onto Gob’s hand. He wasn’t sure what was louder: his screams, or the crunching of his bones.

Or maybe it was the gooey zap of Del's pistol a second later.

She’d gone for his leg instead of his head. Del predominantly used melee weapons, but she was still a good shot with a pistol. She could have hit him right between the eyes if she’d wanted to. It didn’t matter, unfortunately. The force of the plasma was too much and Moriarty was collapsing into a gooified puddle a moment later with a sickening, wet noise.

Then: _silence_. And Gob knew that was actually the loudest thing yet.

He didn’t even hear her approach him and jab a stimpack into his broken hand; he couldn’t feel it either. She was lifting him and walking him up into his room, so much like her first night in Megaton.

Now this was surely going to be her last.

“Gob, sweetie,” she tried to get his attention as she sat them down on his bed, holding his arm in both her hands, “Gob, I’m sorry—I’m _so sorry_. I just couldn’t—”

She stopped, removing one of her hands to cover her eyes and choke on a sob, “I couldn’t—”

Both her hands found his face, and she turned him to look at her, “I couldn’t let him hurt you anymore.”

And suddenly Gob realized what she’d been waiting on for the past few days. She’d been waiting for him to need her again. She’d been waiting for Moriarty to attack him.

She’d been waiting for a reason.

“How long have you been planning to kill him?” Gob asked, even though it didn’t really matter.

“Since my first night here,” Del answered, which is honestly what he expected.

“That’s why you’ve been helping out the town,” Gob muttered, putting it all together in his mind, "Get them all on your side, just in case."

Del ducked her head, which she often did when she was ashamed of something.

“That’s not the only reason, but yeah. The main reason,” she said, her voice small, “I’m sorry. I was just so angry. You must think so little of me—”

“No,” Gob interrupted her. Granted, he’d probably never get the image of Moriarty liquefying before him out of his mind. And she’d done something for him without even consulting him or asking what he wanted. Although, he was sure she’d done that so she wouldn’t implicate him.

Shit. She was never coming back, was she?

“They’re going to make me leave, Gob,” she affirmed his fears, and he moved to hold her hands a little tighter. He regretted it only a moment, before she was making his heart stutter by gripping him fiercely, “I wanted to make sure you have a good life, even if that means I can’t see you anymore. I’m hoping Simms doesn’t make me leave forever, but even if he does I have no regrets.”

“Del…” Gob said, not sure what else to say. She looked up at him, being so much smaller than him. She looked smaller than usual, but her eyes were wide.

“Would you come with me?” she asked out of nowhere, and this time Gob’s heart came to a full stop, “Please?”

And with that final word, he was done for.


	2. She Can't Do No Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just wanted to say thanks for all the views/kudos/comments! This story got way more of a reaction than I thought it would.
> 
> This chapter is. so long.  
> I could have broken it up, but I've got a solid plan for each of the six chapters, so it wasn't worth reworking my entire plan just because I couldn't help myself a got a little long-winded in some places. The end of this chapter is one of my favorite parts. I really hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Also, I linked to the songs mentioned. Some of them would be considered anachronistic in the Fallout universe, but it just fit so I kept it.

**Re:remember**

_Chapter_ _2- She Can’t Do No Wrong_

 _“_ _I’m Tickled Pink_ _” and “Let’s Go Sunning” by Jack Shaindlin_

 

Del had so perfectly predicted Megaton’s reaction to her killing Moriarty that Gob was again struck by how thankful he was that she was a good person. Should Del have instead chosen to give in to the typical wasteland mentality, she’d have taken it and made it hers without retaliation. She could have done whatever she’d wanted with it. She knew exactly how to sway people, how to make them come to her side. Usually that kind of charisma would give Gob pause, but…

He was just so taken with her.

Simms gave Del until morning the next day to think about what she’d done. He met her right outside the saloon, where the puddle that was once Moriarty, Gob’s personal hell and de-facto master, still remained. Either no one cared to clean him up, or no one had the stomach for it. Both were equally as likely.

“Kid, what have you done?” Simms asked as Del stepped through the doorway, looking the very picture of repentant in the face of the sheriff’s deep disappointment. He wasn’t furious, though; he didn’t seem to even be remotely angry—just exasperated. It wasn’t hard to understand why: even Gob knew the man had been looking for a reason to expel Moriarty for years.

One would think slavery would be reason enough, but one would be wrong.

Ironically, slavery _was_ the reason Simms ended up giving the few members of the Megaton populace not already so taken with Del that they’d forgiven her on sight. He’d said she’d discovered Moriarty’s less-than-reputable deals, tried to reason with him, found she couldn’t, and did what she had to.

As if anyone in town, much less the fucking sheriff, wasn’t already aware of Gob and Nova’s situation.

Well. _Past_ situation now.

Which was got Gob to launching into a nervous sweat, while hovering in Del’s house about thirty minutes later. Simms had given her an hour to get some necessities together and leave Wadsworth instructions on how to keep her home while she was away; and then she was supposed to leave town. But, as she’d expected—hoped for—it wasn’t forever. The town would have rioted and ousted Simms instead if he’d permanently exiled Del.

Gob was planning to go with her, like she’d asked. How could he say no? But that’s what got him to worrying about Nova.

Didn’t matter that he was almost completely head-over-heels for Del: he would always feel some kind of responsibility for Nova. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t take care of herself—she’d done plenty to prove she could look out for her best interests—but rather, Gob was worried she’d be tempted by the wealth left to her and either squander it, mismanage it, or, perhaps worst, run off with it and leave Megaton for good. She was still his friend, and he wanted to make sure she was taken care of should _he_ instead be the one to run away, chasing the most baffling, heroic, beautiful girl in the wastes.

A girl he knew was out of his league ten times over, but he still couldn’t help but follow anyway.

So, painfully, no sooner had he agreed to adventure with her around the wastes than he was instead stuttering out a weak reversal to his own choice, citing a need to take over the bar and manage his and Nova’s affairs, lest the opportunity to inherit Moriarty’s saloon be lost to them.

Of course, he should have expected Del had managed even more than he’d given her credit for.

“Oh, I’ve been teaching Nova how to manage the bar,” Del said almost flippantly, like she’d forgotten to mention some minor detail of her plan, like this wasn’t the only thing keeping Gob from joining her and never leaving her side again.

“Sorry?” he asked, again reverting to his usual line in surprise. Del’s coy smile was the only thing that made him realize his error, but she let it go without actual comment.

“I’ve been saving a bunch of those prewar magazines on businesses and _assets_ and shit, and then going over them with her. Even found a couple of textbooks on entrepreneurship and how to best manage a company, feel the market, make investments—all that,” Del said as she sorted through a weapons cabinet for a successor to her baseball bat, should it break before she was allowed back into Megaton and needed to pick a new favored instrument of death. Gob didn’t have a name for the odd, pointy thing she pulled from within the shelves.

“You really…thought of everything,” Gob commented as she swiveled it around over and under her palm, twisting and spinning around in her confident grasp. Graceful, like it was dancing.

It was a delicate but deadly display of exactly the kind of person Del was.

“Life like mine,” Del said, grunting with satisfaction at the weapon and stowing it away, “You’ve gotta stay three steps ahead just to get by.”

“Hmm,” Gob said, suddenly feeling uncertain. Then she hit him with that winning smile, somehow bold and fearless, but also with that touch of shyness he positively adored—the part that got him to hoping he was more to her than some ghoul fascination.

And he was lost once again. He’d follow anywhere she led.

“My hour’s about done. You ready? Need anything else?” she asked, not so subtlety giving him one last chance for an out. As if Gob would take it.

“Definitely.”

 

* * *

 

 

Del hadn’t let on to Gob, but she knew his moms. And a tearful reunion between the three ghouls was the first item on her wasteland adventure checklist. The hug Carol crushed him in was so powerful and lasted so long it was as though she feared he’d vaporize right before her if she let go. It wasn’t until Greta tapped her shoulder for her turn that Carol finally released him.

Then the second shock: that Greta wanted to hug him at all. Maybe fifteen years had changed some things.

“Del, I can’t thank you enough for finding my son,” Carol wept, her voice, naturally labored and minute, now so choked that she could barely be heard, “Thank you for bringing him home. You’re a hero.”

“Now hold on, mom,” Gob said, hating to sound as though he was refuting Del being a hero but needing to set something straight, “This is just a visit. I’m actually traveling with Del now.”

Carol blinked in confusion, absorbing the info and then looking a little saddened, “Oh. Well, do you think that’s really for _the best_ , dear?”

Gob opened his mouth to reply and felt his resolve dying. He could never say no to his mom.

“Dear, Gob’s a grown boy. If he wants to go with the Wanderer, he has the right to do so.”

Amazingly, it was Greta that came to his rescue! Gob couldn’t quite believe it.

“And I’m so glad for his company!” Del added cheerfully, throwing an arm around Gob’s shoulders and grinning. If Gob still had the ability to blush, he’d be red all over. Even still, he wondered if Del could feel just how hot it had suddenly gotten in Underworld.

“Well… if that’s what you want, sweetheart,” Carol finally relented with a small, worried smile. Del removed her arm to instead grasp the old woman’s shoulder, who melted gratefully into her touch.

“Carol, you know I’ll keep him safe. You _know_ that,” Del’s voice was warm and soothing, doing her repetition trick again. And it worked.

Gob was thankful to see his mom smile genuinely. He didn’t want to worry her just as much as he wanted to stay with Del; having to choose would have been almost impossible.

“There’s no one in the Capital that could keep my son safer,” Carol said, fixing Del with a positively loving look which the Wanderer returned easily.

“Well, we at least hope you’ll be staying a few days to visit,” Greta grumbled but seemed pleased with the outcome of the conversation. Del responded in the affirmative, “Good. And no freebies, Gob—you pay rent for the bed just the same as the Wanderer.”

“Oh, you can just give me my usual room. The bed’s big enough for the both of us,” Del waved a hand, sounding so flippant, so unconcerned at the prospect of sharing close quarters with a ghoul, that it was actually ridiculous. Sure she and Gob had set their bedrolls right next to one another on the trip to Underworld from Megaton, but Del didn’t really sleep much while keeping guard over the camp. And this was different.

So different. Sharing a bed was a level of intimacy Gob hadn’t experienced since _well before_ leaving Underworld fifteen years ago.

“That works just fine,” Greta agreed with a sly grin before Gob could stutter out some anemic rebuttal.

 _She knew_.

“Great! We’ll head right up, then. My back is killing me—I’ve _gotta_ unload my pack,” Del said, not even noticing the panic flashing through Gob’s brain.

“ _Your_ back hurts? Just wait until you’re a few centuries old like me and _then_ talk to me about back pain!” Carol teased the Wanderer, who scratched at the back of her neck sheepishly. Gob hoped it was just the situation he’d found himself in—the prospect of laying so close to another person for the first time in so long—but he couldn’t help but let his eyes drift lower down Del’s body as she ascended the crumbling stone stairway to the motel.

_Christ and if she wasn’t also the most beautiful, the most tempting, person he could have had the luck to share the moment with._

He hesitated a whole half a second before following along behind the three women.

But it was early still, and Del did truly only want to lighten her pack—which she had unceremoniously dumped onto the floor of their motel room and started to sort through. The thing was a black hole. The sheer amount of shit she could fit in it, and then take out again to redistribute all over the Capital Wasteland, was endless.

“What ya looking for, smoothskin?” Gob asked, reverting to the term out of habit from being surrounded once more by ghouls. She thankfully didn’t tease him for it—with how jittery and keyed up he currently was, he didn’t think he’d be able to remain one solid mass if she gave him that impish smirk.

“I have a trading voucher for Winthrop. Damn Canterbury trading forms are all on that boring white paper. I really need to talk to them about to transferring to something more noticeable— _here_!” Del rambled as she pulled a million gadgets from the pack before locating the unassuming sheet from a folder of other important papers.

“I don’t think Winthrop’s gonna be able to make the trip up to Canterbury to redeem that voucher,” Gob said, glancing at the sheet. It was extensive and very technical; it made his head spin.

“Oh, I convinced the traders to open their routes up to include Underworld,” she replied, casual as ever when delivering impossible news, “I invested in them, basically co-own the caravan company, so I told them to start coming this way. Had to clear out all the museums and routes here, of course, but it’s worth it.”

Del stood, pocketing the invoice and scooping up another gadget from her array of technology. She didn’t bother to put anything else back.

“Hey, why don’t you go catch up with your moms while I give this stuff to Winthrop?” she asked him to get his attention, “He needs this module thing for a project he’s working on. I swiped it from a dead vault just before I met you, so he’s been waiting on it for a while.”

“What’s it do?” Gob asked haphazardly, fully expecting her to say something else completely unbelievable. Might as well get it all out now, while he was trying to process it.

“Tech like this isn’t my thing, but it sounds like it’s for a purifier. Should help clean up the air down here, so it’s not so musty and shit,” Del responded with a shrug. Yeah, that sounded right.

“You know Winthrop’s been working on that problem since before I even left Underworld, right?” Gob said. It was a question, but even if she didn’t know that, it was unlikely to surprise her. Confirming that she didn’t realize how much of a saint she was, Del just shrugged again, “Is he paying you for that?”

“He wants to, but I told him no. Underworld deserves clean air like anywhere else in the Capital—well, as clean as it gets here. And I don’t need the payment anyway,” Del said, with a little smile before waving at him and heading off for the lower level.

The Wasteland didn’t deserve the Wanderer. And Gob was pretty sure he didn’t, either.

But he was gonna find a way to be worthy of her somehow. There was nothing else he wanted.

 

* * *

 

 

It was about a week into their visit to Underworld that Del decided Gob needed to learn how to shoot.

She had taken him deeper into the history museum to peruse what little remained of the exhibits, Del supplementing the placards and info cards with stuff she’d read from prewar books and material she’d had access to while in the vault. She had an odd interest with prewar culture and it was obvious, from directing Gob all over the museum, how passionate she was about it.

Gob thought she was adorable when she got like that.

The moment passed with the roar of a supermutant from the end of a hallway they’d wandered into. Del’s eyes widened when it rushed them, reacting with only a sliver of a second to spare and blocking the charge with her bat. She was knocked to the ground but managed to slice open the mutant’s arm with all the sawblades imbedded in the weapon. Gob felt bad for calling it silly now, since it was currently saving his life.

Well, the weapon and Del herself.

She pushed him into a closet and closed the door. Gob heard her bludgeoning the mutant until it stilled, then there was a groaning of metal on the wooden floorboards as Del moved a heavy desk to blockade the door.

“Stay here hon, I’ll be right back for you,” Del mumbled to him through the door, sounding breathy from exhaustion. Normally Gob would go absolutely rigid at the sound, but right now he was in a full panic.

“No Del, don’t. Let’s just get out of here,” Gob tried to reason with her. He wanted her safe.

“Can’t, too close to Underworld. Gotta check the rest of the museum to make sure there aren’t more. Then I gotta find how they got in, so Winthrop can come seal it,” she continued stubbornly, “You’ll be safe here, but stay quiet.”

“Del!”

“Gob, sweetie, please be quiet. I can’t stand the thought of them finding you before I get back,” she whispered, actually sounding a little scared for once. Gob could hear it in her voice: that tiny note of strain that said she was putting on a brave face over the frightening reality.

Then she was gone. Gob could hear the sound her bat, thwacking and tearing through supermutant bodies, from what sounded like several floors away. But eventually she’d strayed so far he couldn’t have even heard her set off a grenade; not that grenades were her style, but still. The only sound, aside from the buzzing of pressure in Gob’s ears, was his own breathing: short and gasping. He thought it was a bit ridiculous of him, since it wasn’t as though he were hurt—not physically, anyway.

He just wanted Del to come back.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed in the pitch-black and claustrophobic closet, but Del did eventually return to him. She told him she was moving the desk before she set to it, which Gob was very grateful for; if she’d just started shoving it out of the way before telling him she was back, he surely would have screamed. He was momentarily blinded when Del threw the door open, silhouetted in the doorframe by the low ambient light; she was on him a second later, arms encircling his neck, and crushing him in an embrace.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry, Gob! That was really fucking dangerous,” she said, sounding like she had tears in her eyes. Gob’s hands hovered a foot away from her form and backed up until Del was pressing him against the closet wall. After a moment of his synapses failing to fire, Gob finally realized this was the kind of contact he so desperately desired and he returned the hug.

“Now I understand why humans stay out of downtown,” Gob tried to chuckle, but his throat was extremely dry. Del sniffled a little and moved a hand to the back of his head, clutching him like he was the most precious thing she’d ever held.

“It might not even have tried to get you if I weren’t here,” she said, misinterpreting his attempt at humor.

“That’s not what I meant, Del.”

“I know, sorry. Just—that was too fucking close,” she sighed, breaking away but remaining close enough to sit him with a very determined look that made his throat close up a little, “I’m gonna teach you how to shoot. Should have honestly done it first thing.”

“Here?” Gob asked, mind already racing, wondering where in Underworld they’d even be able to find the room to train with guns. He didn’t like the idea of going out in the open, not with the Brotherhood so close; and, unfortunately, this place didn’t feel safe either.

But… if they stayed here, he’d still get to sleep beside her in their motel room. He didn’t really like the idea of giving that up either.

He’d almost worked up enough courage to not lay on the very edge of the mattress.

Del was quiet and considered things much like Gob had just done, then a thought passed over her face, “I know a great place. Nice and secluded. And— _actually_ —I’d promised to go visit there for a while now. It’s just a bit of a walk.”

 

* * *

 

 

If Del’s idea of “just a bit of a walk” was the trip from Underworld to Oasis, a trek spanning almost the entire length of the Capital Wastes, Gob really didn’t want to know what a long haul for the Wanderer was. Her nickname seemed more fitting by the day.

Now having walked more than probably his entire fifteen years in Megaton combined, Gob was thoroughly exhausted by the time Del told him their destination was just up the next cliff.

“You said that three cliffs ago,” Gob grumbled but not really meaning it. She just giggled at him, pulling him briefly by the hand.

Of course, in Megaton he’d been restricted almost entirely to Moriarty’s Saloon. It was a rare thing when he was allowed to venture out, either to retrieve something from Craterside or the clinic. One time he’d even gotten all the way to the gate, just standing there and considering how quickly he was likely to be caught if he’d fled.

Needless to say, Gob hadn’t run that day.

And even now that he was free to do whatever, he found he still didn’t care for running. At least Del had kept their pace leisurely, but he was still more than ready to make camp and rest. Maybe unload their packs, start a nice fire somewhere secluded, lie down on their bedrolls and look up into the darkening sky—hands almost touching from the close proximity…

That would be nice.

Del stowed her baseball bat in her pack as they ascended what she had promised was the final hill. Breaking out of his fantasy and mirroring her, Gob clumsily slipped the railway rifle she’d crafted for him onto his back by its sling. He still couldn’t believe how she’d bought the schematics from Tulip in the morning and, after a few hours locked in the shop with Winthrop, had come back out to hand him an entire gun. And the thing shot railway spikes!

It scared the shit out of Gob, but he figured it would also have the same effect on anything he’d have to use it against. It was just theoretical at the moment, because any monsters they’d come across on the way, which were blessedly few and far between, had been ruthlessly bashed in by Del before he could even remember where to put his hands to hold the rifle steady.

“Sapling Sequoia!” a youngish woman brandishing an assault rifle that looked older than dirt greeted Del as they crested the cliff and came to stand on a flattened part of the mountain. She glanced back at Gob and, though she looked uneasy with his presence, at least didn’t scream. She must have once been a wastelander; from what little Del had told him of this place, Gob knew they never— _never_ —had visitors or engaged with the wasteland.

“Yeah, that’s me. How are you, Maple?” Del returned the strange woman’s smile, but hers was off. Wait, was she _embarrassed_? “My friend and I are headed in to see Harold, so if ya don’t miiiind…”

The other woman continued grinning at the Wanderer, not seeing to have noticed her discomfort in the slightest, and waved her ahead down the darkening path. Gob was so intent on his amusement, trying to decide how to best tease Del about the moniker, that he hadn’t bothered to look up. But now, being led into what looked like a tunnel, Gob noticed all the… _green_ around him.

“Kid, what is this place?” he asked, so stunned he momentarily forgot about harassing his companion. She just smiled, with a cryptic little shrug, before facing forward again.

“I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me,” she said when Gob hummed in concern, “For now, just know that there’s nowhere else like this in the wastes.”

“I’d figured that,” Gob muttered, so entranced that he stumbled over a protruding root. Del chuckled again, falling back beside him as Maple unlocked a gate made completely of healthy tree branches and ushered them inside.

“You’ll wanna keep your eyes forward until you’re used to the place. Lots of things to trip you up, the locals included,” Del whispered, leaning into Gob’s ear so as to not be overheard, “I wouldn’t wander until they’re used to you. So, as terrible as I know it is, I’m gonna need you with me, ok?”

“Like there’s anywhere else I’d rather be,” Gob’s mind mumbled, distractedly taking in the view of the odd gazebo in the clearing, which seemed to be growing from the vast root system of the Oasis itself. Del’s smile was shy again as she slipped her hand in his and pulled him inside the gates.

Shit. He’d said that out loud.

And, one very surreal visit with a living tree later, Gob was still running a little too hot. You’d think, with all this shade, he’d be a bit better able to calm himself down and get back in control. But, for the same reasons, there was also something incredibly scenic about Oasis.

Well, scenic was the word Gob used because _romantic_ did nothing to calm the hammering of his heart.

Even with all the strange inhabitants, of which Del insisted the tree was one, there was a certain atmosphere present. It hung around Gob’s head and made his thoughts go a little fuzzy, a bit like an alcohol buzz—but not as dizzying. He could see it come over Del too, but she was better at keeping herself grounded and didn’t seem to be in any way weakened, unlike himself.

Once he recognized the feeling, it only served to depress Gob: He was completely at ease. Happy, even.

It had been so long since he’d felt completely safe, since he’d been able to enjoy a pleasant afternoon sitting and sunning under a clear wasteland sky, that he’d nearly forgotten what the feeling was. And maybe Del could sense that, because she stayed beside him and did her best to be as merry and luminous as she possibly could. Eventually the brilliant glow radiating from her pushed away the melancholy in his heart, and he was able to ease back into their comfortable dialogue, which thankfully lasted all throughout the fortnight they spent there.

Del had started him on a weathered BB gun, since the pellets weren’t likely to kill someone if a shot strayed from the target she’d set up in Harold’s glade. The tree was so starved for entertainment that he didn’t even heckle the ghoul: Harold cheered every time Gob managed to successfully fire the gun—whether or not it actually found its mark.

Once he got over the absurdity of it all, Gob did find he was thankful for the encouragement. Del, on the other hand, was not sugar-coating anything for him and was quick to fix his hands, his stance, his breathing if she found it lacking. She was not holding back, showing a critical side of her that Gob rarely saw come out. Were it anyone else, Gob would have given up on the first day.

But… it was her. And it was all he could do not to choke on his own breath when she’d line up behind him, flush with his shaking form, to fix his aim or readjust the amount of tension in his shoulders.

After a few days, Del let him move on to real ammunition and turned his BB gun in for a hunting rifle she never touched. She said she had a surplus of ammo for the gun, so it wouldn’t be any bother to train with it. Gob started to wonder why she’d even bothered to make the railway rifle already if he wasn’t going to practice with it, but she’d just winked and slyly told him it was one of his “graduation presents.”

Wondering what else he’d earn had his mind spinning, dreaming up all kinds of inappropriate and enticing visions, and he’d been completely focused on improvement for the next week.

The final night in Oasis, Gob was sitting in one of the smaller clearings that served as his and Del’s sleeping area. He was dutifully breaking down the hunting rifle, cleaning it and oiling its intricate pieces, and then reassembling it. She’d told him to do it every few days, since the chalky dirt of the wasteland had the tendency to stick a gun and gum up the works, but Gob was being proactive and undertaking the arduous task almost nightly. He kind of liked it—the mindless, repetitive motion reminded him a little of tending bar at the Saloon.

There was a noise behind him. It was Del’s “I’m letting you know I’m approaching you” noise. Kid was too stealthy for her own good and scared him out of his skin more times that he could count on their way to Underworld from Megaton.

“Well look at you,” she cooed appreciatively, sitting down beside him on his bedroll. Gob normally would have been over the moon at her closeness, but cleaning the gun had put him into a peaceful, absentminded trance.

“I like doing this,” he echoed his own thoughts, even though he was sure Del had already understood. She was perceptive like that.

“You look like you’re thinking about home.”

Damn… _Perceptive_.

“Reminds me of wiping down the bar in the saloon,” Gob confirmed and Del nodded slightly, “But the company here is nicer.”

Del’s head dipped and Gob was pleased to see her blushing, “I visited the saloon, too.”

“Yeah, once you decided to come to the town. And then you couldn’t leave, knowing what you’d been missing.”

“ _Gob_!” Even her ears were red now. Gob hadn’t ever felt this emboldened, and he was surprised with himself. Almost as surprised as he was by her reaction.

Gob had seen Del completely ignore so much open flirtation that he’d just assumed she was used to it. But maybe she was actually just… dense?

 _Or_ , his mind whispered delightedly, _she’s just never gotten it from anyone she was interested in before_.

“What? It’s not like you were still hanging around just hoping we’d get some bottles of that Quantum crap,” Gob pressed a little more, feeling like another man entirely with a gun in his hands—a gun he knew how to use now, “Must have seen something else you’d liked.”

That was it.

Del briefly covered her face with her hands, removed them, and then darted around to sit on her knees in front of him. She was inches from his face: the only thing separating them was the hunting rifle and whatever personal inhibitions they each held.

“I like seeing you confident.”

Her voice was low and hushed, so unlike how she usually sounded. It was the dangerous voice: the one she used when she was giving him orders in the wasteland to get down or find cover. Gob still had enough newfound courage to think that he’d be happy to get down now, if she went down with him.

That would be a pretty good line, if he could figure out how to word it.

Instead he said, “Thanks.”

Del’s smirk turned a little giddy, probably from trying not to laugh at him, and she removed the gun from his grasp and replaced it with the railway rifle. He hadn’t even noticed she’d brought it along but, to be fair, his attentions were elsewhere.

“I think you’ve earned this now,” she said, leaning back on her heels and enjoying the sight of his brain restarting. Gob glanced down at the weapon, hoping it, along with the dusk clinging to the glade, was enough to obscure his sudden stiffness. He didn’t think Del would appreciate him reacting that way very much.

“What about my other graduation present?” he asked before he could stop himself. He was back to sounding meek, but Del’s grin turned mischievous again anyway.

_Had that actually worked??_

“Don’t make me do it when I’m like this,” was her murmured reply. She gave him one last, lingering look through her eyelashes before standing and leaving the clearing.

Probably for the best. Gob was going to need a minute or two. Or a thousand.

The next day dawned without further incident, aside from what Gob could hear transpiring in the gazebo. He broke down their camp and stowed away his gear before joining Del and the other treeminders.

“But you just got here!”

“Yeah, but I’ve got other people to go see too. I’ll be back, though!” Del was trying to cheer up a grumpy Sapling Yew, who was uncharacteristically throwing a tantrum. It was the most Gob had seen the young girl act like the eight-year-old she is; usually she was one of the most adult-like of the treeminders, despite her biological age.

“But if you go, I’ll be the youngest again!” Yew cried, alluding to Del being the newest member of the community. The girl had decided she would be the senior to Del and train her in the ways of their people.

Eventually Del managed to calm Yew down by slicing off some of her dark red curls and closing them in her copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ , “See, I’ll still be here. You’ve got a part of me to hold on to.”

It was the warped reasoning that would only work on a child, but Gob couldn’t argue with results; and he and Del were leaving Oasis that morning. The weight of the railway rifle on his back felt comforting now, instead of heavy.

It felt right.

“We’re gonna head down to Little Lamplight, if that’s ok?”

“As long as I’m with you,” Gob answered easily and Del lit up. She led the way through the wastes, checking her PipBoy every once in a while to make sure they stayed on course. Gob was fine with bringing up the rear, so long as hers was in front of him.

 

* * *

 

 

The caves of Little Lamplight were echoing with the most horrific howls and screams. Gob knew kids could get loud—one time Maggie had tripped on her way in to the saloon to retrieve Billy from the bar and she’d wailed so loudly Gob was afraid the walls would be blown down—but this was nothing like anything he’d ever before heard.

Tiny voices were amplified beyond compare, bouncing off and around the cavernous interior and making the twenty kids, and several dogs, sound more like a hundred. Somewhere in that cacophony was Del, too. Gob was trying very hard to listen for her, but it was impossible.

There was a slight pause, the last noise still rebounding in the caves, before the kids started up their singing again:

 

 

> [_Asia's crowded_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jTzgR-ClB4)  
>  _And Europe's too old_  
>  _Africa's far too hot_  
>  _And Canada's too cold_  
>  _And South America stole our name_  
>  _Let's drop the big one_  
>  _There'll be no one left to blame us_
> 
> _We'll save Australia_  
>  _Don't want to hurt no kangaroo_  
>  _We'll build an all-American amusement park there_  
>  _They've got surfing, too_

“ _BOOM_!” enthusiastically went the kids, with Del smiling and singing “ _goes London_.”

“ _AND BOOM, Paris_!” they continued with their usual raucous singing now.

 

 

> _More room for you_
> 
> _And more room for me_
> 
> _And every city the whole world round_
> 
> _Will just be another American town_
> 
> _Oh, how peaceful it'll be_
> 
> _We'll set everybody free_
> 
> _You'll have Japanese kimonos, baby_
> 
> _There'll be Italian shoes for me_
> 
> _They all hate us anyhow_
> 
> _So let's drop the big one now_
> 
> _Let's drop the big one now_
> 
>  

Gob had never heard experienced a more painful but endearing display. All around him were the children of Little Lamplight, not an adult to be seen other than him and Del, singing as loudly as they could as his companion directed them. With the song finished, the kids cheered and jumped up and down. Some rolled around on their bedrolls instead, but no one was going to sleep just yet.

“Sorry about that noise, I hope you’re not too bothered,” Del leaned over from her spot in the middle of the circle of kids to whisper to him, “I have them set up the tent to try to block some of the sound, but I’m not sure it works.

She’d called it a fort earlier, when she was helping the kids set it up. Presently, they were all cramped in together under the souvenir shop, raised up on wooden stilts, with blankets and sheets hanging all around them to close the under-area off from the main cavern. It would have been pitch black, but there were a multitude of lanterns dotting the floor where there weren’t bedrolls and mattresses for the kids to lay on.

Gob couldn’t answer Del before the kids were demanding another song. She cast him an apologetic look, but he simply smiled.

Ok, maybe he looked a little tired.

“Alright, alright. But we’re gonna calm down a little now, ok?” she phrased it as a question, but it was clear she wanted them to settle, “I want everyone to sing _nicely_.”

The children all sat obediently, crossing their legs and watching Del expectantly. She looked over the group before clapping out a silly sounding rhythm, which the kids seemed to recognize.

 

> _[There was a turtle by the name of Bert](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Inh6h3r_Eik) _
> 
> _And Bert the Turtle was very alert_
> 
> _When danger threatened him he never got hurt_
> 
> _He knew just what to do_
> 
>  

The kids joined in for the chorus now, swaying in time and pantomiming along.

 

> _He'd duck and cover, duck and cover_
> 
> _He'd hide his head and tail and four little feet_
> 
> _He'd duck and cover!_
> 
>  

Ok, this was pretty cute. Some of the kids were moving to sit closer to Del now that they’d calmed down, still keeping time and clapping along with her.

 

> _He hid beneath his little shell until the coast was clear_
> 
> _Then one by one his head and tail and legs would reappear_
> 
> _By acting calm and cool he proved he was a hero, too_
> 
> _For finding safety is the bravest wisest thing to do_
> 
> _And now his little friends are just like Bert_
> 
> _And every turtle is very alert_
> 
> _When danger threatens them they never get hurt_
> 
> _They know just what to do_
> 
>  

The kids joined back in for a final repeat of the chorus, doing their little dance of ducking and covering their heads with their hands.

 

> _They duck, duck, duck, duck, duck—_ **CLAP CLAP**
> 
> _And cover!_
> 
>  

More laughing. There were kids now actually sitting in Del’s lap as if they were hers. Some of them had even come to sit kind of near him. He got the feeling if he weren’t here with their “Big Sister,” there would be no chance of the kids accepting him, much less sitting with him and letting him observe their sing-along.

Gob was happy to be here, though. This was the most singularly bizarre, but charming, event he was sure the Wasteland had ever played host to.

“Hey mister,” a small voice tried to get his attention. There was something off about his voice, but Gob couldn’t place it. “Can I touch yow hand?”

Gob looked over to the dark-skinned boy, who was staring intently at his ghoulified skin. He looked… _curious_.

“Biwwy, honey, I don’t know if Gob would be ok with that,” Del’s tone was kind but firm. It was as though she was trying to get the kid to realize it might not be ok, but on his own. Getting people to believe something she’d said was actually something they’d thought of themselves was a special talent Del possessed.

She was trying to spare the boy. And maybe Gob.

“I—uh, I actually don’t mind. Here, kid,” Gob spoke up, holding out his hand, palm upwards, to the boy. Biwwy, as Del had called him, lit up with excitement and looked him over. A few others came over too: just as curious but not as brave.

“Kids, be nice.”

“Yes, Big Sister,” they replied in chorus, crowding around the two adults to get a better look.

It took a little while, but eventually everyone’s curiosity was sated and the kids resumed their usual antics. Biwwy was sitting next to Gob now, looking up at him with something like adoration. He’d said Gob was like Argyle, from The Adventures of Herbert “Daring” Dashwood, and that made him cool.

“Hey,” Del nudged him and he looked over. Her face was shy again, but she looked truly pleased, “Thanks for coming here, it’s good for the kids to have more adults in their life. I think Biwwy’s found a hero in you.”

Gob startled a little, chest squeezing at the sincerity in her words, “He seems like a good kid.”

“He is. They all are, even if they’re a little rough around the edges. And they mean a lot to me,” Del’s voice, already quiet so she wouldn’t be overheard, went even quieter as she laid her hand over his, “And you—”

“ _Ooh_ , Big Sister Del has a crush on the other mungo!”

Oh no. That girl in the pink dress, Princess, had been watching and was now broadcasting it for the rest of the kids. There was a huge gasp and _ooh_ -ing throughout the blanket fort before Del and Gob were being pressed on from all sides to choruses of “Are you gonna kiss him?” and “You’re gonna get cooties!” and “Do you _loooove_ her, mungo?”

Del was trying, maybe a little half-heartedly from amusement, to get the kids to back off but was unsuccessful. It took a whistle from the mayor, a little punk shit named MacCready, to get everyone silent again, “We want another song, Big Sister.”

“Ok, Mac,” she relented, her tone terse but smile playful, “What song?”

“You know what.”

“ _No_ , I don’t.”

“ _Yeah_ , _you do_!” he countered, sticking his tongue out—a move which Del unabashedly copied. Gob chuckled.

“Fine, you turd,” she said before taking a breath and starting to sing. Gob got the joke at that point.

 

> _[You oughta see my baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9RJUYlzgQwU) _
> 
> _She'll really make you stare_
> 
> _She holds my hands in both of hers_
> 
> _While her other one strokes my hair_
> 
> _She's my radiation baby_
> 
> _She's my teenage fallout queen_
> 
>  

Everybody in the cavern was in stitches. Gob included. Del was relieved to see he hadn’t been offended and tried to keep going through her laughter as the kids began whirling around and dancing with each other, play-acting being in love with one another.

 

> _The other night I met her_
> 
> _Down by the hot dog stand_
> 
> _She was waitin' there for me_
> 
> _Her heart was in her hand_
> 
>  

“ _YUCK!_ ” cried the kids.

 

> _She's my radiation baby_
> 
> _She's my teenage fallout queen_
> 
>  
> 
> _Your clothes look like a sack to me_
> 
> _And your hair, your hair is gettin' thin_
> 
> _But I thought I saw when you came back to me_
> 
> _That it had cleared up your skin!_
> 
> _S_ _o whoa whoa, hold me close my darling '_
> 
> _Cause I know what you've got_
> 
> _My Geiger counter, dear_
> 
> _Tells me that you're hot_
> 
> _You're my radiation baby_
> 
> _You're my teenage fallout queen_
> 
>  

“Alright, that’s enough of that one,” MacCready cut Del off from finishing the song. His smirk was disgustingly smug, but Gob didn’t mind.

“One more!”

“Yeah, one more!”

“One more, Big Sis.”

“Ok, ok. _One more,_ ” Del answered, motioning for everyone to sit down. Dutifully, everyone, including the Good Mayor MacCready, sat down around her, “This one’s going to be quiet, because it’s time to go to sleep.”

Several of the kinder children scooched in closer, circling around Del and Gob on the mattresses strewn all over the cavern floor. Bumble, the littlest one dressed in footie pajamas, crawled right into Del’s lap and laid her head against her chest.

“You know where to sing along.”

Del started by humming, which the kids picked up once the lyrics began.

 

> _[Let's dance in style, let's dance for a while](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t1TcDHrkQYg) _  
>  _Heaven can wait we're only watching the skies_  
>  _Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst_  
>  _Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?_
> 
> _Let us die young or let us live forever_  
>  _We don't have the power, but we never say never_  
>  _Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip_  
>  _The music's for the sad man_
> 
> _Can you imagine when this race is won?_  
>  _Turn our golden the faces into the sun_  
>  _Praising our leaders, we're getting in tune_  
>  _The music's played by the, the madman_
> 
>  

It was an oddly melancholic song to sing to a bunch of kids, Gob thought, but this was the most at-peace he’d seen them since entering the caves. The chorus was where everyone joined in, and Gob found himself humming along despite not knowing the words.

 

> _Forever young_  
>  _I want to be forever young_  
>  _Do you really want to live forever?_  
>  _Forever, and ever_
> 
> _Forever young_  
>  _I want to be forever young_  
>  _Do you really want to live forever?_  
>  _Forever young_
> 
>  

It was positively angelic, all those little voices joined together to sing. Gob’s chest was already tight with emotion, but he thought it might just kill him when Biwwy, still beside him, leaned his head against his upper arm.

 

> _Some are like water, some are like the heat_  
>  _Some are a melody and some are the beat_  
>  _Sooner or later they all will be gone_  
>  _Why don't they stay young?_
> 
> _It's so hard to get old without a cause_  
>  _I don't want to perish like a fading horse_  
>  _Youth's like diamonds in the sun,_  
>  _And diamonds are forever_
> 
> _So many adventures given up today_  
>  _So many songs we forgot to play_  
>  _So many dreams swinging out of the blue_  
>  _Oh let it come true_
> 
>  

Everyone sang now, despite drooping eyelids and drawn-out yawns.

 

> _Forever young_  
>  _I want to be forever young_  
>  _Do you really want to live forever_  
>  _Forever, and ever?_
> 
> _Forever young_  
>  _I want to be forever young_  
>  _Do you really want to live forever_  
>  _Forever, and ever?_
> 
> _Forever young_  
>  _I want to be forever young_  
>  _Do you really want to live forever_  
>  _Forever young_
> 
>  

Gob was the last to fall asleep, looking out over the cavern of kids, safe and happy in their blanket fort in a dank, dark cave. To the Wanderer in the center of them, with so many sets of little hands reaching to be near her and the little girl still in her arms.

He knew he’d admired and adored her before. But now, Gob knew he loved Del.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any editing mistakes. It's too late to fix atm and I really just wanted to get it posted. Comments are appreciated, and thanks for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Also, please check out my tumblr! I post supplementary material from time to time--namely concept art for my OCs, Del included.
> 
> link: https://alien-ariel7.tumblr.com/


End file.
